


i love you (always have, always will)

by sadie18



Series: a study in pining [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, War, reconnection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 17:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: daphne and pansy go way back. until they didn't go at all.a study in reconnection





	i love you (always have, always will)

Daphne and Pansy go way back. 

Like-

_Way back. _

* * *

_Like when they were three-_

And Daphne's mother is Pansy's godmother and Pansy's mother is Daphne's godmother, and their fathers sat on the terrace smoking curated cigars from a magic shop in Cuba, while they played in the gardens before they were thrown into classes and lessons. 

_Like when they were eight-_

And Daphne and Pansy vowed that they'd always watch each other's back and when Theodore Nott told Greg Goyle he'd seen Daphne's knickers under the table at the Malfoy's Yuletide Ball, Pansy walked right up to him and poured her fancy looking purple drink all over his robes.

_Like when they were eleven-_

And the entire journey from King's Cross to Hogwarts, they didn't once let go of each others' hands, even though Daphne really really _really_ needed to use the loo but Pansy was so nervous, clutching her hand so tight that the circulation was cutting off that she waited until they were settled in Hogwarts before sprinting into a stall and nearly wetting herself.

_Like when they were twelve-_

And Daphne had a dreadful crush on Draco Malfoy and told Pansy once, quietly, embarrassed. 

Days later, Pansy walked up to him and plopped herself next to him as easily as she then shattered Daphne's little heart, and she watched as Pansy pecked him on the cheek and didn't look back at Daphne once.

_Like when they were thirteen- _

And Daphne Greengrass is labelled the prettiest third-year in a dumb list written by Seamus Finnegan, who had the gall to _leave it on his desk _when he left Charms, and Pansy is listed _twenty-third_ and Daphne doesn't watch as Pansy cries into an uncaring Draco's shoulder.

_Like _ _when they were fourteen- _

And Daphne sat in the lap of the same Theo Nott that had picked on her endlessly when they were eight, nursing a warm butterbeer, and watched as Pansy was led into the bedroom by Blaise Zabini while Draco moped over Harry Potter like he _always _did, and Pansy didn't look back. She never did.

_LIke when they were fifteen- _

And Daphne had too much to drink and tastes firewhiskey on Tracey Davis' tongue, and Daphne admires the curve of her jawbone and her baby blue eyes and thinks '_I like her', _but Tracey turns away and giggles for three seconds before passing out onto the bed and Daphne _knows _that Tracey is not for her, but _girls _can be.

_Like when they were sixteen- _

And the taint of war brewing on the horizon is dampening every crevice of Hogwarts like a choking cloud, and Pansy is distant, Draco is distant, Theo is distant, because it's one thing to say '_mudblood' _to Hermione Granger and another thing to want to kill her. 

_Like now- _

Daphne has never felt so numb. 

* * *

The war trickles on slowly.

Or so, Daphne feels, because the Greengrasses took refuge in France- spending days lounging under the sun in a gingham-patterened bikini and eating fresh fruits and flirting with the boys at the stalls of the markets and worrying over her lost lipsticks and writing letters to her friends and crumpling them up before even signing her name at the bottom.

Daphne longs for a glimpse of choppy black hair, a red-stained smirk, the clicking nails on the counter that used to drive her crazy.

* * *

_(Pansy, I hope all is-)_

_(Pansy, I know you can't write me, but-)_

_(Pansy, are you okay? Please tell me you're-)_

_(Pansy, I love y-)_

* * *

It's fine. 

Really. 

It's okay. 

And then the owls come by and drop a newspaper in her lemonade and Daphne spills it in her scrambling after seeing the headline.

_The War is Over. Harry Potter Saves Us All. _

Daphne can't control the smile that splits her face, her heart straining and her stomach churning because the fucking Golden Boy _did it. _

* * *

Pansy Parkinson is sentenced to a year under house arrest, for her attempt at handing Harry Potter over to the Dark side. It's light, compared to the death penalties Nott and Malfoy seniors received, but it's a blow. Draco is under constant supervision in house arrest until he goes back to Hogwarts for eighth year, after sitting three months in Azkaban. 

Daphne transfers to Beauxbatons for her repeated seventh year, hand in hand with Blaise, and turns away all the owls with letters embossed with a wax, green _P, _intricately stamped on the front of the expensive envelopes. 

Daphne and Pansy go way back, but now, she's not sure if she wants to go forward.

* * *

It's four years since the war ends till Daphne sees Pansy again.

Daphne is with Cho Chang, stretching their legs after a day at the _Daily Prophet _offices. The Leaky is warm, inviting, nostalgic. It reminds Daphne of her youth, when Diagon Alley had been so _new, _wonderful and bright. It still was. Tainted, perhaps, but as she watched other kids running around, tugging their tired parents out of the bar to peer into windows, the niggle of an unnamable feeling hit her again, fresh, not unnecessarily unwelcome.

The bar's cleaned up a bit since she was last there, the atmosphere loud and fun. She saw Hannah Abbott wiping down a table, and sent he a tentative wave. 

"I got drinks today, Chang, you know I'm good for it." Daphne teased as Cho slumped into a booth, her blue pantsuit splaying around her as she groaned loudly. 

"I'll get a-"

"-mojito, light on the mint, strong on the vodka, I know."

Cho winked at her, waving her off. "You know me too well, Greengrass. If the Leaky's as good as the muggle bar, we'll come here more often. Off with you."

Daphne rolled her eyes, raising a choice finger that was certainly _very _unprofessional for a woman of her stature.

She approached the bar, tapping it twice, eyeing the impressive lines of bottles that adorned the wall. 

"What can I get you- _oh._" 

Daphne snapped back to reality, her neck jolting so fast that it cracked. 

Pansy. 

Pansy _here. _

Pansy in a teeny muggle top that left nothing to the imagination, under the ugly mint color of the Leaky aprons, neck jangling with too many necklaces, and her lips forever the same cherry-painted red that it always was. Holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a small shotglass in another, her mouth open in surprise, widened _"o", _and it's just _weird, _to see Pansy in anything other than the clean-tailored school uniform of their Hogwarts days, because that was the last time Daphne had spoken to Pansy, and left without saying goodbye. 

It came in a crashing wave, the unspoken hurt, the quiet longing. It was loud and soft at the same time, because while Daphne, on the inside, was screaming, three specific words that she'd been ignoring for years, her mouth remained still, pressed into a hard line from the effort of controlling herself. 

"Daphne." Pansy said softly. "Long time no see." 

"Yeah." She murmured back. "Too long." 

"So-" Pansy's voice cracked here, and she blushed as she cleared her throat. Daphne was awed. Here was a Pansy Parkinson, adult, that wore her emotions on her sleeve- shocked because there had been a time where Pansy would rather _die _than have her voice cracked. Her voice had even remained completely still, serious, when she tried to turn over _Harry Potter _all those years ago. "What can I get you?"

"Um." Daphne allows eloquently, before clearing her head. "Two mojitos please. Light on the mint, strong on the vodka. Thank you."

"Coming right up." Pansy mumbled, before turning and beginning the process. She was quick, skilled at what she did, shaking bottles and pouring bottles, dancing around the bar for ingredients. Pansy Parkinson had had many dreams and aspirations, as a young, cunning girl, but a _bartender _hadn't been one of them. 

It was over all too fast, and Pansy was sliding two tall glasses towards her. 

"Two mojitos, strong on the vodka, light on the mint." Pansy muttered. Their fingers brushed as Daphne reached for the drinks, and _there. _

The crashing wave hit her again, stronger. Inevitable.

"Let's catch up, Pans." Daphne tried to say lightly, croaking the nickname that felt foreign on her tongue. "Please."

Pansy looked at her, her brown eyes into Daphne's green. And she smiled. 

It was radiant. 

"I'll write you." Pansy bit the inside of her cheek. 

It felt like closure. Daphne couldn't hide her grin as she turned back to the table, feeling Pansy's stare boring into her back. 

* * *

"They're that good, huh?" Cho narrowed her eyes at Daphne's cheerful expression, making grabby hands at her drink. "Oh, _wow, _they _are._"

"Yeah." Daphne glanced back to the bar, where Pansy was laughing at something Seamus Finnegan was saying. "You could say that."


End file.
